


the storm is coming soon, it rolls in from the sea

by timeladyleo



Series: the knapp-shappey-shipwrights have a horrible christmas! [11]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Car Accidents, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyleo/pseuds/timeladyleo
Summary: She wasn’t sure where she was going, she hadn’t had time to think. She’d just grabbed her bag and left without another word.
Relationships: Carolyn Knapp-Shappey/Gordon Shappey, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey/Herc Shipwright
Series: the knapp-shappey-shipwrights have a horrible christmas! [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039773
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	the storm is coming soon, it rolls in from the sea

**Author's Note:**

> this song is 'winter song' by sara bareilles and ingrid michaelson.

She drove. She wasn’t sure where she was going, she hadn’t had time to think. She’d just grabbed her bag and left without another word. 

It was raining, lashing down on the windscreen, the noise of it drowning out her own thumping heart. Her knuckles were white, fingers wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that it would have bruised, had it been flesh. Fingerprint bruises wrapped around a wrist. 

Wasn’t it always the same, raised voices and fists? Whispered apologies that you’re too stupid to reject. Arthur’s big, brown eyes looking up, wide and afraid and wet, hand gripping her sleeve like she might float away, tiny fingers keeping her grounded. Wide eyes and open ears. It hadn’t escaped her how dull thuds made him flinch just like her. 

_Can’t you just let it go?_

Where was she? Driving had been a bad idea, choosing to go down the winding country lanes instead of heading for the motorway, because she wasn’t going anywhere. She was just _going_. She passed a sign, and slowed a little to read it, the wipers trying their best against the downpour, the headlights straining against the dark and rain. South. She was going south. She’d just keep going until she hit Banbury, or Oxford, or wherever looked big enough to have a hotel room to stay in. 

The silence was deafening but she didn’t dare turn on the radio, didn’t want hitting in the face with the words of some night-time DJ, lonely in their studio, trying to make jokes in the dark. It wasn’t that late, but the roads were empty and long. No-one else would be out in this weather. No comfort in someone else’s words. Not when his were still ringing in her ears, not when his were coming back from the past to haunt her. 

_Just fuck off, why don’t you?_

She should have known better. She shouldn’t have run. She should have run long, long ago. She should never have let herself get to this point again.

Arthur’s wide eyes burned into her memory as she shut the door. 

His tiny hands reaching up to her, grabbing at her sleeve, _when’s dad coming home?_ They’d both watched him slam the door. 

Even as she left, even as her blood run cold, Arthur’s eyes stopped her slamming the door. 

There was a difference between an argument and a squabble. Bickering and fighting. Punching up and punching down. She’d just about started to believe that arguments didn’t have to factor in, that they could spar without having a row, that he’d just roll over and show his belly and accept that she was right, when it counted. 

_God, Carolyn, you’re so fucking infuriating sometimes!_

Had he really meant it? 

_Just fuck off, why don’t you?_

Then her phone rang, splitting the silence open, making her jump. The shock of it brought her out of her trance, broke the spell telling her to _get out, get out, get out, get–_

She realised she was still shaking. 

She reached into her bag to grab her phone, to make it shut up so she didn’t have to listen to it, so she didn’t have to think about opera or consequences. Then it rang again, and this time it was Arthur’s smiling face beaming out of the screen, a silly photo he’d set that one time he’d decided she needed photos of them all, and she’d complained because she knew what they looked like, she saw them often enough, she didn’t want to see them or speak to them. 

His eyes looked just like his father’s. 

_Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!_

Carolyn pulled over next to a gate, nestled in the hedgerow. She just wanted to drive on, but the road had started to blur with the rain, her spinning head. Her eyes. And the damn phone wouldn’t shut up, six missed calls, twenty-something messages that she didn’t dare read. 

Were they apologies? Curses? Or worse, forgiveness? 

What was she doing here? 

What were they doing, now? 

Without warning, a sob escaped her, pointing to a tension she had had her fists clenched around for years. She turned off the phone. It was wrong, she knew it. She ought to have at least texted Arthur, to tell him she was fine, that she would be back in the morning, maybe. That she just needed to clear her head. That the words just needed to stop echoing between her ears, _fuck off, you’re so fucking infuriating, let it go, it’s your fault, fuck off._

If only she’d taken Arthur’s hands while they’d still been small, had this courage then instead of standing firm, instead of covering Arthur’s ears and eyes. 

_Why do you always have to contradict me?_

The rain was getting louder, beating down on the top of the car like it was trying to break through. Carolyn lowered her hands from her face, eventually, when she could remember how to breathe without feeling like she couldn’t come up for air. 

She turned on the phone again. More messages. Voicemail. _mum where are you??_

Decision time. Old Carolyn would have driven on, wouldn’t have even stopped, would have thrown the phone out of the window in a stubborn blaze of glory to make them worry on purpose. Old Carolyn would have screamed back in his face and cried later remembering Arthur’s expression. 

Old Carolyn would have taken the hit and said it was for the best. As long as it wasn’t Arthur. 

_Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!_

She turned the wipers on, watching them back and forth, a metronome against the lashing rain. Keeping time. As if they could. As if time was anything except water down the drain. 

_God, Carolyn, you’re so fucking infuriating sometimes! Can’t you just let it go?_

The headlights made the rain look like snow, if you applied the right level of imagination to it. She’d never had the patience. Imagination had always been Arthur’s realm, seeing patterns and stories in every single thing he could get his hands on. His tiny little hands. 

She imagined him sat at home, worried. _mum where are you??_

Frustration bubbled inside her. There was no way to win! The last thing she wanted was to go home to get told she’d overreacted, because she hadn’t, didn’t he have any idea? Didn’t he know how much she wanted to go home, really, how much she wanted to fall back into his arms and forgive him, but she’d been there before too and apologies were slimy, a slippery slope into forgiving shattered plates and bruises on the back of your head, out of sight but firmly in mind, and that look on Arthur’s face. Somewhere between resigned and ashamed. Like he’d done wrong. 

_It’s not my fault!_

She smacked the steering wheel a few times, hard under her palms. It didn’t help. 

Two options. Go home now, go home tomorrow. Why was it so hard to know what to do? 

_Just fuck off, why don’t you?_

_mum where are you??_

Guilt versus principle. At the end of the day, she knew who she’d choose over anyone else, every time. She looked at her phone, cleared away the notifications, and texted Arthur. She had to let him know she was okay. Herc could wait. 

The worst bit was, she knew he would. 

The worst bit was, she would always wonder if he meant it. 

She would drive, she decided. She’d drive around in a circle for a while, less wildly than before, but she’d go until stopping didn’t feel like giving in either way, until her eyes got too tired and she had to commit to something. She wasn’t sure, yet. 

The road was empty. Not that there would be much traffic on a night like this, on little lanes like this. 

Her phone rang again, and she chanced a look at the screen to see Arthur’s name, again. 

And that’s when the lights of the truck filled the whole world.

**Author's Note:**

> for the record, making herc angry was really hard and i didn't have fun. he didn't mean it, i promise. continued in the next work along, [_tears, we cried a flood_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194111).
> 
> I'm on tumblr, [sircarolyn](http://sircarolyn.tumblr.com/).


End file.
